


Next Time

by strokemyplumage (girlfromcarolina)



Category: NCIS
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, M/M, Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-28
Updated: 2012-12-28
Packaged: 2017-11-22 17:15:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/612268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlfromcarolina/pseuds/strokemyplumage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A snippet of Tim/Tony cuddling.  Episode response!fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Next Time

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure which episode this was written in response to, but it was a few years ago. All I know is that after I watched, T2 cuddling was required!

Tim is not a cuddler. He's a victim of circumstance. 

Current circumstances involve Tony's arm laying diagonally across Tim's head, Tony's snuffly breath hitting his cheek. The point of Tony's nose is tucked up underneath Tim's ear; he can hear every soft, dreamy whine. Tony is sprawled out, dead to the world, and very warm where he's touching Tim. They wake up like this four out of five mornings, sheets scrunched and folded like unfinished origami between their torsos. If Tim has a t-shirt on, Tony's hands have inevitably journeyed beneath, fingers playing and tickling down Tim's ribs. He's naked this morning, neither of them bothering to do much more than undress each other and fall into bed late last night.

Tony had made a good effort though. Taunting and teasing, Tony threw out some _very_ intriguing ideas when in reality the only muscles Tony could move were in his mouth, and Tim wasn't much better off. But the suggestions made for great dreams, Tim's brain taking all those thoughts straight to his subconscious center, letting them play out in technicolor. He'd probably even groped Tony a few times in his sleep—oh well, it was Tony's fault.

Now, after test-shifting his limbs, Tim feels pretty good. Refreshed, ready to extract himself from the Italian octopus wrapped around him. His arms and legs aren't the only things feeling revitalized though; Tim's ready for a fiesta south-of-the-border, too. He leans up, trying to see the clock over Tony's bare shoulder. Maybe they'll have enough time for Tony to do that _thing_ he mentioned yesterday, with his tongue and those—

"Oh shit! Tony!"

Tony sputters and mumbles as he's rather violently awoken, opening his eyes just in time to practically get shoved off the bed.

"Jesus, Tim. What the hell?"

Tim's already up and scrambling to the dresser—his drawer in Tony's dresser, really—for an undershirt and boxers. "I thought you were going to set the alarm!"

"I did..." Tony looks. "I didn't?"

"No, you didn't."

Tony's face droops, then he's up and at 'em with Tim, pulling out the first thing he can find in his closet that's not dirty. It's easier for Tim—he only keeps a few outfits here. As he's glowering, waiting for his chance to get in the closet, Tony comes out, presentable from the waist down in dark jeans and a gray, striped shirt, slick loafers already on his feet.

Tim just glares.

"Hey," Tony actually stops in front of him, kissing Tim on the cheek and ruffling his bed-head. "I'll take the heat, it was my bad."

Screw Tony and his self-flagellating way of making it impossible for Tim to stay upset. "No, I should have—"

"Get dressed, McNaked." Tim looks down when Tony does, his morning erection resigned to not getting any. "I'll make it up to you later."

"The tongue thing?" Tim pouts.

"Yes, the tongue thing. Go!"

~

Gibbs must have tapped into one of his extra senses; he's waiting for Tim and Tony as soon as the elevator doors open.

"Where the hell have you two been?"

"Sorry, boss—accident," Tony rattles off quickly, Tim following him to their desks. "Had to pick McGee up and we got stuck—"

"Hey!" Gibbs cuts him off. "I don't _care_. Grab your stuff, DiNozzo, and let's go—got a squad to interview."

Ziva gives them both sympathetic nods that don't quite cover the smugness in her eyes, and grabs her gear, heading over to wait by the elevator. Tim doesn't set anything down, just makes a three-sixty at his desk.

"No, McGee, not you," Gibbs instructs, waving him back. "Abby's got all the phone records and financials to sift through, go help her."

"Yes, boss!"

"And Tony," Gibbs adds.

"Yeah, boss?"

"Next time, let McGee set the alarm."

 

FIN.


End file.
